The Red Lily (Vampire Blood #2)(30)

       
         
       
        

She soaped one leg and lowered it back in the water. Then the second.

That man. And those blue eyes. They weren't sky-blue, but more like the sea before a storm. And the way they changed with his mood. Deep and fathomless when he was pensive or brooding, which was most of the time. Brighter with a spark when he was laughing. Flaring with an unnatural glow when his vampire senses heightened. Dark and utterly hypnotizing when he looked on her with desire.

She soaped her breasts and stomach under the water, imagining what it would be like to have his hands touch her so. She set the bar aside. Picturing the way he looked at her last night the moment before he fed from her, she eased back against the tub, sank deeper into the water, and let one hand drift between her legs. She remembered his lips burning on her skin, his teeth sinking into her flesh, his hard body crushing her. She stroked her cleft, letting her fingers slide through the silky folds, bringing Nikolai to mind. Cupping one aching breast and closing her eyes, she let her fantasy unfold.

She imagined what he would have done with his mouth had she been completely naked last night. A soft moan escaped her lips as she worked her fingers faster, thinking of him doing this to her. Thinking of him doing much more to her.

A sharp knock on the door jolted her out of her fantasy to a sitting position. Water sloshed over the sides.

"Sienna?" came Nikolai's voice from the other side. "Are you all right?"

Stars above! She caught her breath, then bit her lip. He was a vampire. He could hear her heavy breathing even from the other side of that door.

"Sienna?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Yes," she answered softly, then cleared her throat and called out louder, "I must've fallen asleep."

What a liar she was. Far from asleep.

"I have something for you. I'll leave it at the door." She heard what sounded like the crinkle of paper.

"I'll be down shortly," she called out, a little breathless. "Thank you."

There was a pause, then he added with humor in his voice, "I'll meet you in the parlor below when you're done."

Thank you? What was she thanking him for? For the parcel at the door or for providing her with the vision so she could pleasure herself? Almost pleasure herself, that is. She'd been alone for a long time in Silvane Forest, growing from girl to woman.

"Too long," she muttered before she dipped her head back and washed her hair with a bottle of perfumed oils left on the washing stand. Afterward, she toweled off quickly and wrapped herself in a homespun robe the innkeeper had set out for her. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she opened the door a few inches, finding a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a red ribbon. Curious, she took the package inside and sat on the bed. 

Untying and pulling the ribbon free, she opened the paper to find a perfectly folded dress. A lovely dress of deep crimson with white stitching in a floral-and-vine design. The fabric was wonderfully soft to the touch. The scoop-necked bodice was trimmed in white lace, as well as the cuffs of the long sleeves. A crisscrossing pattern of gold stitching decorated the bodice down to the waist. When she lifted it up in both hands, she felt corset boning within the lining, but not as stiff as the one she usually wore. Exquisite craftsmanship.

Sienna had learned to fashion her own clothes while living in the woods, but she had not the skill of this dressmaker. Eager to try it on, she unfolded the dress completely from the wrapping and another gown fell to the floor.

No, not a gown. A new chemise. Lifting the fine fabric, she couldn't help but rove her fingertips over the iridescent white muslin. It was sheer like her own shift, but the detailing of tiny buttons from the naval to the bosom and the white sheen of the fabric told her it was worth far more than her own.

A heated blush crawled up her cheeks when she realized Nikolai had not only bought these for her but had most probably imagined her in them.

"Well, then," she whispered to herself.

She slipped into the clean, dry shift, the material feeling like silk against her skin. Padding over to the drying rack next to the fire, she found her stockings were dry enough. Pulling open her pack sitting by the fire, she pulled out her change of clothes and undergarments, all damp from the rainwater seeping through the canvas satchel. She stretched them on the drying rack as well.

Pulling on her new gown, she strained to fasten the buttons up the back. This was a dress for a lady who would have a servant to help her, but she managed all the same. The fit was perfect and snug to her frame. She was happy to forego her regular corset since the inlaid boning and stitching in her new dress hugged her waist and hips perfectly before flaring out in thick folds. It was remarkably more comfortable. And warm. The fabric had considerable more weight than her own.